


Some Kind Of Bucket List

by scorchedtitan



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, grandma ymir, my brot3 is eren/ymir/sasha fight me???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorchedtitan/pseuds/scorchedtitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's no wonder no one visits Ymir: she has all the decorum of a grandmother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kind Of Bucket List

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask how this BROT3 occurred, it will only end predictably in tears and massive property damage.

The first time Eren actually visited Ymir’s room in the dorms made him realize why no one besides Historia ever visited Ymir.

It took a solid twenty seconds for it to settle in, even through her lame joke of “You may be the wrong member of our friend group, but hey: Mikasa es su casa.” He just stared straight ahead, slowly taking in every detail.

To be fair, even before this he’d noticed some eccentricities about her. She never texted, always responding to one of her friends’ texts with a call on her outdated Nokia flip phone. She always sounded really tired if one managed to catch her past 8:45 at night (unless, of course, she was drinking). She ate too much Jell-O to possibly be healthy (but, given the general diet of college kids, this was to be expected). However, even in his wildest dreams, Eren would never have imagined this.

Her walls were covered in gaudy floral print, magenta lilies painted atop a lavender background. The computer on her desk was from 1995 at the latest, yellowed tint sticking out like a sore thumb over the sleek pink work desk that their college supplied to the female dorms. Her mattress on a frame in the corner was a simple black affair that Eren was sure came from the military of the 1970s, with a knitted blanket that was most definitely cold as hell at night lain atop it. A potted plant that smelt so suspiciously sickly he wasn’t sure it wasn’t poisonous hung in the center of the room, at the apex of all the lights and above a simple wood table with an empty shot glass on it. Her lamp was polished wood and a ruffled, moth-bitten top.

Ymir settled into the chair (faded lime-green, looking exactly like the chairs in the library Eren noted) by her desk and pulled out a cigarette from her desk. Lighting it, she mumbled, “Come the fuck in and sit down. I’ve just gotta check my e-mail on this piece of crap.” She all but took her time pressing every button to turn it on.

Dumbfounded, Eren robotically sat down on her bed, eyes continuing to be assaulted by her layout and so-called “taste”.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta call Mina about our Spanish homework,” Ymir said. Flipping out her phone and pulling the cigarette out from her lips, she dialed the black-haired girl’s number. After several rings, Ymir cursed, and did something no millennial ever did with someone they weren’t dating: left a voicemail. Admittedly, one filled with vulgarities in multiple languages, but a voicemail nonetheless.

After several tense moments of Ymir typing, Eren spoke and defied everything his father had ever taught him.

“Ymir, hand me a cigarette.”

She eyed him curiously, sizing up in her catlike manner whether he was going to give her a whole speech on the dangers of smoking. Eventually she relented and pulled out another smokable and tossed it to him with the lighter.

Eren pressed it to his lips delicately before switching on the fire. He fought down hacking, but even that seemed trivial to him given his current situation. Ymir sat there watching him curiously before he spoke again.

“I’ve, uh, gotta go. I just remembered I left my fucking law textbook in Ms. Brzenska’s room,” he lied, still unable to recognize the world around him.

Though she was clearly internally calling his bullshit, Ymir let out a huff. “Man, I invite you to my room with full hospitality and you leave immediately. See ya, Eren.” She flashed him a grin to make sure he knew she was fucking with him, before turning back to her computer.

Barely registering her mumbles of “overdesigned piece of shit”, Eren stumbled out of her room in a daze. It took a couple rings for him to realize he had pulled out his phone and dialed someone. Pulling the cigarette out of his teeth and crushing it against a wall, he waited for the recipient to pick up. 

“Yo, Eren, what’s up?” Sasha asked from the other end of the line.

Eren paused for a second.

“Ymir’s a fucking grandma.”

* * *

 Sasha cackled as Eren related what Ymir’s room was like as they chilled on the grass outside of the boys’ dorms. “Who do you think knitted it?” she asked through a mouthful of ramen as he got to the blanket.

Eren all but shouted. “I have no fucking clue! At this point it could be her! I’ve never seen Historia with needles!” He sipped a Red Bull, gesturing wildly. “My whole damn perspective has changed!”

Sasha hummed thoughtfully. “So? Let her live her life, I guess.”

Eren stared. Harder and harder he looked until Sasha glared a nonverbal question. “No one,” he began slowly, “should want to live like that in an era with Netflix. I’m gonna modernize her.”

Sasha laughed. “I don’t know, man, sounds tough. Betcha 50 bucks you can’t do in, oh, let’s say…a week from tomorrow, moneymaker?” The nickname settled in to help inform the sincerity of the bet.

Eren grinned, white teeth all but flashing in the sunlight. “You’re on, hillbilly.” He fished his wallet out and placed a $20 bill and a $5 bill in Sasha’s hands, and the same in his own.

Just then Historia walked over. Recognizing her friends’ betting, she walked over, books in hand and usual peppy smile on her face. “Whatcha’ guys betting on this times?” she asked, settling in next to them.

Eren laughed. “You know your girlfriend’s got all the technological skill of Armin’s grandpa?”

The small blonde girl looked inquisitive. “So? I like her the way she is.”

“Not the point,” Sasha replied. “According to Jaeger here, it’s unlawful to live like that. So, he’s decided he’s gonna modernize Ymir in a week, otherwise he owes me $50.”

“Week from tomorrow,” the boy replied, sipping from his can once again. He offered it to Historia, who declined with a frown and a shake of her head.

Historia pulled out a health drink in response, and absently turned to studying her law book. “Well, have fun. Probably should go get prepared, though. It’ll be a heckuva job.”

Eren’s eyes widened (not that they weren’t wide as hell before, Sasha noted) and grinned. “Yeah, I’ll have to download all the best apps! Maybe get some help from Armin too! I’m gonna go find him!” He dashed off, leaving the two girls alone.

After some silence, Sasha spoke up. “Any thoughts?”

“He’s totally fucked,” Historia replied without looking up. “Hope he has some kind of bucket list, at least.”

* * *

“Upgrade time!” Eren shouted the following day as he burst into Ymir’s dorm room. Immediately a pillow smashed into his face, and he went tumbling over. 

“It’s eight in the fucking morning on a Saturday, Jaeger. Most college kids are passed out,” Ymir leaned up out of bed, eyes still closed, one hand absentmindedly scratching at her breast from under her tee. “The fuck do you mean by ‘upgrade time’ anyways?” 

Eren grinned as he got back up, taking in the room once more, each sweeping gaze identifying something to fix. “Ymir, my dear friend,” he began, striking a pose with one fist against his hip and an arm straight out, finger pointing at her. “Based on yesterday, and previous incidents, I have decided that you can’t live your life stuck as a woman from the 1960s from this point onwards.”

She peered blearily at him as she knocked his hand aside. “That computer is from 1999, at the least. Not 1960.”

“Which is why I said from, as in they were alive then and still are now,” Eren replied. He began tugging at the sheet over his friend. “First thing to change: your blanket! Too co-“ he stopped dead as it came off despite the protests of Ymir’s toes. “You’re not wearing underwear.”

“No shit. This is why you don’t barge into people’s rooms and try and change their life.”

An awkward five minutes later, Ymir was dressed in more than just a t-shirt, and any blush that had bloomed on Eren’s face had disappeared as he stood outside. She opened the door to his smiling mug once more. “Alright, I’m vaguely open. No changing the blanket, though. Grandma bought it for me and she’d be sad if she visited and it was gone.”

Eren pouted. “Your family never visits! Hell, I doubt most kids here know you have a family. But fine, whatever. Let’s flip to a list then. Things I’ve noticed need changing: your computer, your phone, your wallpaper, your lamp, and that smelly plant. Anything you want to change?”

Ymir shrugged. “Could get off the Jell-O, Historia bugs me about eating healthy too much. Also the plant has a purpose.”

Eren looked at her quizzically, and she smiled leerily. “Covers up the smell when Historia’s over.”

“Jesus, Ymir, TMI.” Eren groaned, hand slapping against his nose. “Fine, okay. So let’s start with the computer. Too expensive to change, but I can at least teach you a few things.” He strolled over and leaned on the back of her chair, making an inviting gesture. Hesitantly, the dark skinned girl sat down and turned the machine on, fans roaring in a noise that made even Eren wince. Taking an extra step, she moved to her e-mail.

“Alright, now what?” Ymir asked, glancing up at him.

“Well, you’re at least running Windows XP, so it’s usable. Not recommended, but usable. See that little bar at the top? The one saying AOL? Click on that.”

She did as he asked, and queried once more, “Now what?”

“Type in YouTube, it’s for videos. Or short internet moving pictures, as an old woman like you might call i-yowch!” He winced as she flicked him. Nonetheless, YouTube appeared…with the unfortunate warning that the Flash player was out of date. Knowing it may not even update, he grimaced. “Alright, never mind. I may have Armin look at that for you. New plan: good old games. Here, click on the green start icon in the corner, and then click ‘All Programs’.”

Once more she did as he asked, and frowned. “This is a lot of…what do you call them? Clickables?”

“Folders, Ymir, folders,” Eren responded, letting out a scream internally. “Anyways, click on games, and then Minesweeper.”

“Oh, is it a video game? That Wii Sasha bought for the Rec Room is pretty cool, couldn’t get the hang of it though.” As a small gray window popped up, she looked back at him, cat-like in her curiosity. “Alright, the hell is this?”

Eren beamed. At least she showed some initiative. “Call it an ancestor. What you do is click a box.”

Ymir did so, and was delighted as she it revealed a small green 2. “That’s a point, right?” She at least knew what those are, if only from the correlation between video games and sports games like the basketball she was used to playing.

Eren laughed. “Not really. It’s an indicator. Surrounding that space are 2 bombs, which end the game. Click another next to it.”

The next to the left revealed a 3. Ymir, taking a step in the right direction, clicked the one above it. Sadly, it revealed a bomb, ending the game. As a reset button appeared, she glanced up. “I think I’m gonna get good at this. Good start, I’m guessing?”

Eren nodded, “You have much to learn, young Padawan…wait, have you seen Star Wars?” He avoided another flick to the head, leaping back and falling onto the bed.

Ymir rolled her eyes. “I’m not that much like a grandma!”

* * *

As the next day was a convenient Sunday, with no classes to intrude on Eren’s lessons, he decided to fix Ymir’s wretched wallpaper, as it was the easiest thing to teach, but the hardest to get done.

“What the hell’s wrong with floral? It’s decorative, at least,” Ymir asked as she and Eren strode through the halls of the local Home Depot, browsing the aisles for any sign of wallpaper and glue.

Eren scoffed. “The only time I’ve seen floral print outside of your room was when Armin’s grandpa has a ‘luau’ theme for his 78th birthday. It’s gaudy and tacky all at once. Decorative would be an actual pattern.” He flipped through his phone’s photos as he walked, browsing different stock options. However, given his lack of attention, Eren walked straight into someone’s behind with a strangled yelp. Someone’s very buff behind. And very tall behind.

Reiner turned around and spotted his two friends from where he was talking with an employee. “Eren!” he greeted the duo enthusiastically, pulling the brunette boy up with a single mighty handshake. “And Ymir!” He added a bow and a wink in an act of false chivalry.

“Reiner,” Ymir smiled coolly. “How many times do I have to tell you, put up that performance of heterosexuality and neither of us will be allowed on Broadway again?” She peered past the blonde to see an awkward sandy-haired boy, with a nametag that read something along the lines of ‘Mycelium’ that she couldn’t make out. “Trying to pick up the employees at Home Depot now? I always thought you were more for the drama type, not the woodshoppers.”

A loud guffaw echoed from Reiner as he waved away the employee, who attempted to hide a blush. “I mean, to be fair, they are quite handy with tools and hardware! Especially the drills.” He leered, throwing Ymir another wink.

Eren, who until this point had been dusting himself off, threw back his head, closed his eyes and groaned. “I do not need to hear about your sex life.” Pointing forwards again, he allowed himself a small smile. “But, Reiner, why are you here?”

“I could ask the same of you. I’m buying parts for a model building for Urban and Regional Planning.”

Ymir groaned in turn of Eren. “God. Academics. Forgot about those. Minesweeper stole my time all of yesterday.” She glanced at Eren. “Can we delay the whole wallpaper thing? I’ve got Psych homework to do.”

Reiner cut in. “Wallpaper? I can help, so long as you pay. Mr. Weilman said any paid jobs we do around campus are free extra credit.”

Eren did a double-take. “Dude, that’s such easy credit. But sure. I’ll give you 20 bucks.”

There was a brief hassle to pick out a wallpaper, which turned out to be a light brown affair mutually decided on between Eren and Reiner. Ymir wanted a neon green and subdued blue combo that Eren commented looked like a Skechers shoe vomited and thus was shut down. Eventually they managed to bring the wallpaper and equipment back to Ymir’s dorm.

“Jesus, Ymir,” Reiner stared when he saw her original design. “Are you in the 60s?”

“That’s what I said!” Eren crowed victoriously as Ymir slapped her hand to her face. He danced around her laughing, and was about to reach for his phone to take a photo when she slapped his hand away from his pocket. Said hand then banged into Reiner’s elbow and caused him to drop the wallpaper he was carrying. Sheets scattered across the floor as the trio stared in disbelief.

“Um. Sorry?” Ymir opined, rather unapologetically. She attempted to pick one up and caused it to tear. “Well, this is cancelled.”

Eren shrugged. “Nah, we can still salvage this. Reiner, hand me the glue!” With glue and brush in hand, Eren smacked at the walls, scattering the goo everywhere, before plastering pieces on lazily. “We’ll just be careful when putting it together!”

“Ah, Eren? Don’t glob it on too much,” Reiner commented at his friend’s casual attitude. Picking up another brush, he began artfully stroking, leading the glue down the walls in a careful and controlled manner. “Like this, even spread?” He turned when Eren paused to stare. “What?”

“That’s so slow, and I want to get this done, Reiner!”

“It’s design! Otherwise you get a fucked up wall!”

“Hey guys?” Ymir queried, holding up the instructions. “This says we have to remove the preexisting wallpaper.” She glanced at it once more to double check, and held up her trusty switchblade, offering it as a scraper. “Will this work?”

Eren’s hopeful “probably” cut over Reiner’s “no”. They stared at each other again, conflicting.

“Eren. Who is the architecture student here?” Reiner all but growled, holding his paintbrush out as though it was a weapon. His eyes held cold determination in their steely gaze, and the buff blonde bruiser braced for battle.

Eren, unfazed despite a literal quarterback staring him down, sighed and threw up brush in defeat, only for it to land stickily in the glue can. The trio looked dejectedly at it, as it sunk and bubbled like a drowning victim. Fleetingly, Eren mouthed ‘rest in peace’.

Ymir coughed. “Yep, cancelled.”

* * *

After class on Tuesday, Ymir hitched (aka was forced to go on) a ride to the Verizon store with Eren. As they waited in line a poorly saturated white and red decoed store, she clicked her tongue. “Eren, I do not need a goddamn smart phone.” She chugged down a bottle of ginger ale. “Connie has a flip phone. Doctor Ackerman aka your girlfriend’s entire whole sum of family has a flip phone. Why the fuck does it matter for me?”

Eren groaned without turning around. “Mir-mir,” he graciously accepted a kick in the leg for the nickname before continuing, “Connie’s actually legitimately poor as shit, unlike you, miss ‘all-but-golddigging-Historia-Goddamn-Reiss’, and Doctor Ackerman could legitimately get away with murdering me at any given point in time. You have no such restraints, and are my best friend, and I’m getting the newest model anyways. Also I bought you a ginger ale to shut you up and bribe you, so there’s that.”

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” Ymir groaned. She put on her best grin as a sales associate came up to them to talk. Within less than a minute the freckled girl was lost in a daydream, something to do with making out with Historia whilst standing on a burning pile of her homework, when eventually after an eternity her partner in crime nudged her in the side. “What?”

Eren rolled his eyes. “She needs to see your old phone, Ymir. Get all the data out.” He casually reached into her back pocket, ignored a ‘watch the hands, Jaeger’, and plucked out the relic of a Nokia, tossing it to the store employee.

The employee chuckled nervously. “Ah, I’m fairly certain this model is too old for us to transfer data. Do you just want-“

Ymir cut her off, grin getting tight. “Just gimme his damn phone so we can get out of here.”

The poor worker was off like a rocket, reading the situation quite clearly. Within what seemed like a second compared to before Ymir was holding and examining a stark white iPhone 5.

Eren tried to guide her through it as gently as he could. “So you press the top button, which is the power button, then swipe the screen. Then find a little white and blue compass icon to get to Safari, where you can browse the internet, far better than the heap of shit you’ve got at home, but first find a different blue-“

The tall girl shushed him with a hand covering his mouth. “Easy, Eren, not all at once. Besides, I’ve fooled with Historia’s iPad once or twice, what’s the worst that could happen?” As proof of concept, she flipped the phone in the air…and missed the catch.

Eren’s muffled cry of “YMIR NO” was interrupted by a loud crack as the phone hit the ground and its screen splintered into thousands and thousands of tiny fragments. All said and done, the face of the phone was utterly obliterated, a sad corner bent in defeat as the sales associate walked up and stared.

“Well, good news,” Eren pried Ymir’s hand off his face. “They let you keep your old one here.”

* * *

Ymir whined, a low pitch noise all too similar to a coyote in hunger. “Eren, what is this diet,” she asked, leaning over the table to paw at him, ignoring the kale salad that had been set out for her against her will.

The green-eyed boy swatted her hand away. “It’s Friday afternoon and despite my best efforts to prevent it since last Saturday, I caught you eating Jell-O for dinner last night. So we’re gonna take it from the top. No Jell-O, whatsoever. Be it lime or strawberry or blueberry or fuckberry Jell-O. That’s old people food. People nowadays eat kale.” Eren had revoked the right to eat the gelatin after the start of his mission, but she’d still been sneaking it from the cafeteria, much to his consternation.

“Kale is gross.”

“I’m not arguing that, but I even got Historia to agree you shouldn’t be devouring Jell-O twenty-four/seven,” he replied, not looking up from his own meal of ramen. “And I would have you eating ramen but she vetoed that. So kale from the cafeteria it is.”

Ymir huffed, and then paused as she spotted something across the room. “Fine. Let me go to the bathroom.” Ignoring Eren’s minor protests, she shoved away. Walking briskly towards one Connie Springer, she swooped by his table, picked his Jell-O off his tray, and broke into a run amid a chorus of shouting and swearing in the shaved boy’s native Cuban.

Spoon in her mouth, Eren immediately sprinting behind her, Ymir had never felt so alive.

* * *

Sasha and Historia watched bemusedly as a dejected Eren walked up to them on the quad on Saturday. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. My my, if it ain’t Richie Rich himself, saddlin’ up to the farm,” Sasha jeered, holding her hand out. “How goes it, Mr. Gates?”

Eren grimaced and dug in his pockets. Finally finding what he was looking for, the Jaeger boy pulled out a small card and a crumpled bill, and placed it in her hand.

Sasha took it and glanced, confused. “What the hell is this?” She flipped it at Historia. “I bet Jaeger fifty buckaroos and he shows up with a $20 bill and a Red Lobster gift card for the same amount. Explain.”

Eren chuckled. “I taught Ymir Minesweeper. That has to count for a little.” He settled down with them, grabbing at Sasha’s lunch in one deft maneuver and stealing a fingerling potato out from under her scandalized nose. He popped it into his mouth and turned his head to look at her with only one eye.

“That counts fer shit, and you know it,” Sasha shot back, grabbing a fingerling of her own.

Historia shrugged. “I’m on Eren’s side, actually. She’s been addicted to it, possibly more than gelatin. Thanks for trying there, by the way,” she beamed, causing Eren to grin despite his overall failure. “And I mean, her wallpaper is…different, if not entirely comfortable.”

Eren paused Sasha before she could ask what exactly Historia meant by comfortable by replying, “See! Not a total waste. Also I kinda used my other twenty between gas money, buying Ymir a soda, and buying Connie some more Jell-O. Haven’t had time to go to the ATM with classes too.”

Sasha sighed. “Ah well. Do gotta question why you’re givin’ up Red Lobster, of all things.”

Eren glared condescendingly, green eyes glinting dangerously. “I’m sorry, I prefer my fish to be real.”

His southern belle of a best friend laughed. “Rich kid.”

Eren melted into a smile. “Hick.”


End file.
